"But I'm a doctor too!" Giradin protested. "I'm one of you!"

"At the moment, you're a patient," came Melcher Fitz's cold reply from underneath that steel mask.

After things had calmed down a bit more, Melcher Fitz had entered Elekvaz with a dozen plague doctors in the city square, each with their weapons out and ready should any of the citizens seek revenge. As it was, the people of Elekvaz kept even greater distance between them and the doctors than before.

Giradin stood before Melcher Fitz with the trampled remains of his mask in hand. Mu and Shlomo each stood beside him in their full plague doctor uniforms.

Shlomo raised an index finger, "If I may, Lord Fitz... with Fulk in the infirmary for his burns we need all the help we can get. Losing Giradin will make our job most difficult."

Fitz's beak snapped to Shlomo. "Really? Then maybe next time you'll think twice before you unleash a swarm of flaming rats in a populated area!"

"We didn't 'unleash' anything!" Mu protested. "We tried to trap them in the cellar so Fulk could kill them all at once. No one could have predicted that those... monsters could have been strong enough to break through the cellar door!"

"Maybe not," said Fitz. "But you all are still responsible." He groaned. "And besides, Giradin's not a patient now because I seek to punish any of you, but because he lost his mask and then got swept up in the crowd. That means he might be infected, so he needs to be watched for symptoms for the next couple of days."

The wind picked up and Giradin gagged on a whiff of the filth in the streets. "Ugh... tell me I at least get a new mask..." he said.

Fitz shook his head. "The smiths are still working on making a new one. In the meantime you will stay here, in Elekvaz. Once we're sure you're not infected you'll be permitted to leave the city and don a new uniform."

"But just staying here without a mask..." Giradin glanced back and forth in the town. "I'm vulnerable! If I'm not already sick I will be soon..."

Fitz pointed at Giradin's face. "Then you'd better hope that Mujahid's cure works."

Mu reached into his coat. "Speaking of which..." he produced a vial and held it out to Giradin. "Drink this and pray."

Giradin hesitated a moment, then reached out and took the vial. He popped the cork and poured the contents into his mouth, almost choking on the bitter taste.

Fitz turned to Shlomo. "Until Fulk has recovered you are in charge."

Shlomo chuckled. "In charge of who? Mu? It's just the two of us now."

"I'm going to send some of our new recruits in to help you two," said Fitz. "And if there is one more incident like before I'm putting an end to this entire experiment."

Giradin felt his stomach drop at Fitz's words. "What will happen to Elekvaz if you halt the experiment."

Fitz stared at Giradin in silence for a moment before finally saying, "You already know the answer to that."

Giradin grunted. "Sure... burn one more city... what does it matter anymore."

Fitz lunged forward and seized Giradin by the collar. Giradin struggled to slip free, but Fitz held him fast. "We work to stop the end of all of Christendom. St. Ida said that if the Black Death spreads unchecked millions will die. MILLIONS! That's more than all the stars in the sky, more people than you will ever see in your lifetime."

Giradin curled up his nose at Fitz. "So, to prevent countless people from dying it's ok to kill countless people?"

Fitz shoved Giradin away. The young man lost his balance and crashed onto the filthy streets behind him with an earthy splash. The combined stenches of urine and muck burned in Giradin's nostrils.

Fitz's fists and shoulders shook with rage as he stared down at Giradin. "I do what's necessary to fulfill my holy cause, Giradin. A cause I hope you still believe in, because I will not tolerate traitors in our midst." Fitz drew his longsword and pointed the tip at Giradin's nose. Giradin's eyes turned from a defiant glare at Fitz's mask to a fearful stare at his own reflection in Fitz's blade. "Don't give me a reason to use this, lad."

The two of them remained silent for a long while, with the tip of Fitz's weapon half an inch from Giradin's face.

"Say 'yes, my lord,'" Fitz ordered.

"Yes, my lord," Giradin choked out.

Fitz sheathed his sword. "Good. Just remember the penalty for insubordination." Melcher Fitz turned from Giradin and stormed off, his cadre of Crows following after him.

Shlomo and Mu both took Giradin's arms and helped him to his feet.

Once he was up, Shlomo patted him on the shoulder. "I know it's hard to understand sometimes, but Fitz is doing what must be done."

Giradin shook his head. "I'm not sure I can believe that anymore, Shlomo... When I was there, in the midst of that crowd... I saw those faces so full of fear... and..."

Mu interrupted, "Afraid of the fire we started. They were afraid because of a mistake we made, one we won't make again."

Giradin grunted. "There's a bigger picture here, Mujahid! How many towns, villages, and even cities have we burned? Do you really think everyone in Isselhan deserved that?"

Shlomo shook his head. "It's not about what they deserved, Giradin. We needed to do it."

"Did we?" Giradin asked.

"We offered a quicker death to anyone who would come forward," said Mu.

Giradin snorted. "The priests always tell us that God sends those who commit suicide to Hell. We even saw what happens to suicides with our own eyes!"

Shlomo chuckled. "No, we didn't. The vampire was invisible, remember?"

"You know what I mean!" Giradin snapped. "Think about the options we're giving these people! Suicide and damnation, or death by fire? There's got to be a better way!"

Mu placed both hands on Giradin's shoulders. "Yes! Yes, I agree with you! There needs to be a better way. That's why we're here, remember? To test the medicine I made. If it works, the Church can make enough of it for all of Christendom to take it."

"And if it doesn't work?" Giradin asked. "What happens to Elekvaz if your medicine does nothing?"

"Pray it doesn't come to that," said Mujahid. "I'll pray to Allah, Shlomo can pray to his God, and you can pray to the saints or to Jesus or to Mary or... whatever you do. One of us is bound to be talking to the right God, Giradin. Or, if not the right God, at least one willing to listen and help."

Shlomo nodded. "You'll be confined to your room at the inn for the next few days, except when you come out for inspection, so use that time to pray."

"So, I'm a prisoner now?" Giradin said.

"A patient," said Shlomo. "Though, admittedly, the lines between the two are often a bit blurry. In any case, we ask that as our patient you be patient."